


The Woman

by RuleBritannia



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Not a Sherlock Crossover, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuleBritannia/pseuds/RuleBritannia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4207.html?thread=6682991#cmt6682991</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woman

**Martin**

  


When he was thirteen, most of the boys in his class were chasing after girls, and buying or, more frequently, stealing porn magazines. They were always talking about girls, and little else. He did find Demi Moore attractive, though he was more of a Wynona Ryder kind of guy, but he didn’t think it was justified to be talking about them as often – and as lewdly- as his classmates did. They just weren’t that interesting.

There was one exception, though.

Crouching under the covers with his flashlight, Martin stared at the magazine clipping of the woman of his dreams. Short hair, not particularly beautiful or sexy, she did look a bit boyish, but he didn’t care. She was perfect, with her smile and adventurous gaze, and the helmet and goggles.

If only he’d been born earlier.

Sometimes he dreamed that, once he was older, he would get lost at sea, like her, and maybe end up wherever she was now.

Amelia.

Now that was a woman he could talk about.

 

**Carolyn**

  
There was a woman in her circle of acquaintances that never quite fit in, and was never really accepted. Oh, she was from a good family, a very good family, and still had all her money. It wasn’t that sort of snubbing, she was just too different.

She was always well dressed, but never looked like the others. She always had something interesting to say, but was never up to date with the latest gossip. She wasn’t cruel to the maids, but neither was she one of those that treated the help like poor little things that deserved her pity. She was married, had a child, but she didn’t seem to have been absorbed and consumed by either.

Carolyn wasn’t her friend; Gordon hated her with a passion for some reason she couldn’t fathom, and it would be a long time before she did something Gordon didn’t approve of.

When she finally left Gordon, though, years later than she should have, her circle of acquaintances seemed to shrink considerably, and she couldn’t say she cared much.

One day, walking home from the shop, she saw her, walking opposite her. She was older now, but still looked so… whole, so independent. They didn’t stop to say hello; they didn’t know each other that well. Still, this time Carolyn felt no shame in looking at her in the eye as they passed each other, and it earned her a small smile and a nod.

**Arthur**

  
His mum also called him an idiot often enough. Well, he was a bit of an idiot, so he didn’t mind. But somehow, when his mum said it, it didn’t sting like when the others said it.

His mum would yell at him to shut up, but Arthur could always tell it was because she was tired, or had a headache. It never felt like she couldn’t stand him, just because it was him, like with the others.

His mum was mean to him at times, and Arthur always took it in stride because, while the others were mean to him, it was only to him. His mum was mean to everyone at times.

She never, not once, treated him like a frail thing that could break at the barest touch, either. If she thought he could do something, she would push him relentlessly, even when he thought he couldn’t. She was almost always right, of course.

She sometimes seemed to forget he was older now, though. That was ok, sometimes he forgot he was older, too. It was more fun. And he liked that she some times still came to tuck him to bed and kiss him good night.

But most importantly, on those rare occasions that Arthur had felt down, she just stayed quiet and hugged him.

**Douglas**

  
Douglas loved women.

Their softness, their roundness, their gentleness.

Douglas of a thousand stewardesses.

Two marriages and counting (He had already met number three.)

He just loved them all.

But who would have guessed that one day, one woman would be able to claim his heart like no other? That the one woman would make all the others pale in comparison? And a bald, chubby, gurgling one, at that.

Standing behind the maternity glass, Douglas stared at the little pink bundle and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he’d just met the love of his life.


End file.
